Possibilities, 2nd Draft

Photo by Sven Scheuermeier on Unsplash

There are some poems that when I read them again, I think, “I wrote that? It’s lovely.” This was one of those poems. And there are still tweaks I could make to it. And if I mess it up, I’ll just go back to where I started and leave it alone for a while.

Open into this day knowing

everything you see can become something else—

if you just look a little longer.

The lentils are a city nestled into

the green grass background of the bowl,

bits of dressing are beaches carved into the forest—

a landscape of miracles that used to be your breakfast.

In the blur before you put on your glasses,

the lily that dropped from the altar bouquet

is a tropical bird, resting on its journey from here to the ends of the earth.

The water in the vase is the ocean and —

if you breathe in deeply enough—

you can taste the salt.

With your eyes turned towards the lush summer greenness outside,

the email notifications become temple bells

echoing over a still mountain lake

calling you to silence.

First Draft:

Move forward into this day with knowing

that everything you place can become something else—

if you just look at it a little longer.

The lentils left in the bowl are a city nestled into

the green grass background of the bowl,

bits of dressing are beaches carved into the forest—

a landscape of miracles that used to be your breakfast.

In the blur before you put on your glasses,

the lily that dropped from the bouquet on the table

becomes a tropical bird resting on its journey from here to the edges of the earth.

The water in the vase is the ocean and —

if you breathe in deeply enough—

you can taste the salt.

With your eyes turned away from the screens,

towards the lush summer greenness outside,

the email notifications become temple bells

echoing over a still mountain lake

calling you to silence.